<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Save A Horse Ride A Witcher by Nerdgirl124</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261017">Save A Horse Ride A Witcher</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdgirl124/pseuds/Nerdgirl124'>Nerdgirl124</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, I Also Mention The Unicorn, Idiots in Love, It's Not Necessary, Jaskier Being A Whiny Little Shit, Jaskier Gets To Ride A Witcher, Jaskier Has Been Waiting For This For More Than A Decade, Jaskier Taking Care Of His Witcher, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mild Angst, Off Handed Comments Getting Jaskier In Trouble, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Roach Isn't Having It, Smut, Uncertain Witcher, he just didn't know it yet, i just love it, neither is Geralt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:16:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdgirl124/pseuds/Nerdgirl124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier's feet hurt and it has been too long since he's seen anyone but his surly white haired Witcher. It makes him careless, his inner thoughts spilling into reality. And there's no way he can take it back now.<br/>Oh well, you know what they say about looking a gift horse in the mouth.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>301</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Save A Horse Ride A Witcher</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There is such a distinct lack of heterosexuality in this fandom. <br/>Not that I'm helping any.<br/>I just thought someone aught to acknowledge it is all.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are we there yet? I mean seriously we've been walking for hours and my feet fucking hurt,” came a childish whine from directly behind him. He could feel the involuntarily clench of his jaw, the slight tightening of his grip on the leather reins as the shrill sound grated on his over sensitive ears. “Plus I'm starving, we should stop; rest, eat, please Geralt,” Jaskier continued, sounding even more pathetic by the minute.</p><p>“Firstly, it has not been <em>hours</em>, it’s been <em>an</em> hour,” Geralt ground out, not bothering to look back at the, most certainly pouting, bard that was dragging his feet along the dusty road. “And secondly, no. We keep moving.”</p><p>“But…”</p><p>“No,” the Witcher cut him off. Pulling Roach’s reigns hard enough to make the horse snort in discomfort. “We are in the middle of nowhere,” he continued, tuning his ice-cold glare on the man behind him. He evidently hadn’t been expecting him to stop and had ended up losing his balance as he narrowly avoided running directly into the mares backside. Instead landing with his own arse in the dust.  “And, while I am more than willing to sleep in the woods for another night, I cannot, in fact, handle another night of hearing you complain about sleeping on the cold, hard ground. Now, there is a small town, just on the outskirts of this forest. And if we keep moving, we should make it there before nightfall. So please, if you would just shut the fuck up, you may be able to sleep in an actual bed tonight.”</p><p>“Easy for you to say, you haven’t had to walk a thousand miles to get there. You have her,” Jaskier mumbled under his breath, from his place on the ground, gesturing at the mare, pawing impatiently at the ground. With an exaggerated roll of his blue eyes and a resigned sigh, the bard pushed to his feet, brushing dust from his brightly coloured trousers. “Great, that’s just bloody perfect. Those were my last pair of clean cloths.”</p><p>“Hm,” was all Geralt said in response as he ran a soothing hand along Roach’s neck, urged her forward again.</p><p>“Fuck… Geralt,” Jaskier called after him. “Can’t you ever, just wait for me?” he whined, trying to catch his breath as he came up beside the Witcher.</p><p>“Hm,” Geralt growled, spurring the mare into a quick trot. Putting some much needed space between him and the infuriating bard, hoping for a few moments of peaceful silence.</p><p>Too bad wishful thinking never worked on other man.</p><p>“You know, as nice as a soft bed and a warm meal, that isn’t some mangy rabbit that you managed to trap, is, I honestly don’t think I can make it much further,” Jaskier kept complaining, kicking up dust and trailing behind.</p><p>Another growl rumbled from the Witcher’s chest as he brought Roach to a halt once again, rolling his eyes. Ignoring the voice in his head, asking why he doesn’t just leave the damn man behind? Why he always waits for him and lets him tag along? It’s a question that he has been asking himself since he first met the bard back Dol Blathanna all those years ago.</p><p>“So…” Jaskier asked, dragging the last letter out as he reached out to brush a hand against Roach’s flank, right next to Geralt’s leather clad thigh.</p><p>“Don’t touch Roach,” he growled out, mostly out of habit, than from actual anger.</p><p>“Now, Witcher, you don’t mean that. Roach loves me, don’t you sweetie?” Jaskier cooed at the mare, soothing a hand gently over her damp flanks, drawing a contented neigh from the relaxing mare. “Now,” he began again, his hand brushing closer and closer to Geralt’s own thigh with every pass.  “What do you say, my surly old friend? If you want me to shut up so badly, why not let me ride her for a bit? Give my poor feet a rest?” he continued, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he looked up at him, clear blue meeting unearthly gold. At some point, the other man’s hand had stopped its ministrations, coming to rest lightly against the horse’s side, just barely touching the Witcher’s strong thigh. For some reason Geralt felt his breath catch ever so slightly at the contact.</p><p>“No,” Geralt replied after a minute, jerking his leg away from the other man’s hand and pushing Roach forward again, leaving Jaskier to catch up again. Feeling his breathing easing with every step he put between them.</p><p>“Well, I mean if you won’t let me ride your horse, we could always give the poor girl a break and I could just ride you,” Jaskier whispered behind him, his voice so quiet that, had Geralt been a human he wouldn’t have even heard him. But with his enhanced Witcher hearing, the bards voice rang out, clear as a fucking bell.</p><p>The words were so unexpected, Geralt felt like all the breath was punched out of him at once. Like being kicked in the chest by a fucking striga, making him abruptly rein Roach in once again. Much to his girl’s ever growing chagrin. But the Witcher paid the indignant mare no mind as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself and his unnervingly erratic heartbeat.</p><p>Fuck, none of this made any sense. Geralt was a Witcher for fuck’s sake, he had been trained how to control every part of himself, making him as lethal as possible in a fight. But for some reason, with only a few small words, Jaskier could destroy a lifetime of training and control. Sending the Witcher into the unknown without his swords, and no means of protection against what might be lurking in the dark.</p><p>Suddenly the sound of soft footsteps filled the Witcher’s ears as the bard started walking towards him once more. It felt like years passed as he waited for Jaskier to finally reach him. Although he knew it was probably only seconds.</p><p>He had no idea what to expect, when the other man reached his side, but he could feel a small tingle of something deep in his chest. Something he didn’t want to look too deeply into. </p><p>But what ended up happened was enough to snap the transfixed Witcher out of his stunned stupor.</p><p>He kept on walking. After what he had just said, the effect it had on Geralt's equilibrium, the damned bastard just fucking kept walking. Not even glancing at him as he strode forward. Leaving the Witcher to gape at him as he sauntered passed. Roach getting more and more impatient as the world started moving around her again. But the he could do nothing more than just sit and stare after the retreating figure before him.</p><p>“It wouldn’t help any with the sore feet problem,” Jaskier threw over his slender shoulder as he continued to moving, a mischievous smirk playing on his infuriating lips. “But then again, there are worse things than sore feet,” he continued, voice dropping suggestively, adding a bit of an extra swing to his steps, practically begging Geralt to chase after him.</p><p>The idea seemed ridiculous, one that had never crossed the Witcher’s mind. Something he never knew he wanted. It had never occurred to him to even consider the bard in that way. He had only ever been with women, and hadn’t had any intention of changing that habit. But in that moment, suddenly, there was nothing he wanted more as he watched Jaskier’s loosely swaying hips only a few feet ahead of him.</p><p>“Well, aren’t you coming? I seem to remember someone saying something about a soft bed in a warm inn?” Jaskier teased mercilessly, turning with a flourish and meeting the still stunned Witcher’s eyes. Nearly tripping over his own feet as he continued walking backwards, regaining his balance with much less grace than his usual actions. “Although, of course, a bed is not, per say, strictly a necessity of this situation.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He didn’t know what made him do it.</p><p>Sure he’d thought about it, how the hell could he not have. But ever since his first attempt to flirt with the beautiful, white haired, Witcher had yielded, less than promising, results, he decided not to pursue it further. They were just friends, and that wasn’t going to change. And he just had to learn to be ok with that.</p><p>However, just because Geralt didn’t feel the same way didn’t mean Jaskier’s mind stopped coming up with various indecent scenarios and fantasies featuring the Witcher doing any number of unmentionable things to him. Yet, he never let those thoughts leave his head, for the sake of their friendship.</p><p>He couldn’t explain what it was; maybe it was his sore feet, or the fact that he had been sleeping on the cold, uncomfortable ground for the last three fucking days. But the words were out of the bard’s mouth before he had a chance to stop them.</p><p>And now here they were, Jaskier standing a few feet away from a still, expressionless Witcher. Something that would have even the bravest of knights shitting in his small cloths. But he had known the Geralt too long.</p><p>He wasn’t scared.</p><p>Unable to handle the silence and stillness around them, Jaskier took a dozen or so careful steps back to the Witcher’s side, his bright golden eyes tracking the bard’s every step. Leaving him with the distinct feeling that he was a rabbit caught in a hunter’s sights.</p><p>He couldn’t help the pleasant shiver that made its way up his spine, as he rested his hand once again on Roach’s strong flank. His eyes dropping from the Witcher’s molten gaze, an almost shy smile pulling up the corners of his lips. Waiting to see how the legendary Butcher of Blavikan would respond.</p><p>Another minute or so passed in tense silence before Jaskier let out a resigned sigh, his hand slipping from the mare’s soft coat. Jaskier had played this game enough times, he knew what rejection felt like. Not that he blamed Geralt, he knew it was a long shot to begin with. As far as the bard could remember, he'd only ever seen the Witcher with women after all.</p><p>He was just about to tell the other man to forget about it, that it was just a stupid joke. That he would stop complaining and they may still have time to make it to the town if they got moving again, when there was a flash of pale skin, locking around his narrow wrist. Shocked by the sudden movement, Jaskier’s head snapped up. Any words he may have been about to say, burning to cinders at the blistering heat in the Witcher’s golden eyes. The grip on his wrist was tight, like a burning shackle of cold flesh, nearly cutting off all circulation to his dexterous fingers. But he could hardly bring himself to care, far to enthralled by the intensity of the other man’s gaze.</p><p>“Now what, my lovely Witcher?” Jaskier asked, his voice barely more than a strained whisper. His eyelids half closing, leaving him looking up at the Witcher though long, dark lashes.</p><p>“Jaskier…” Geralt growled, his own lashes obscuring his smouldering gaze. Nostrils flaring as he drew in a long breath through his nose.</p><p>“Well now, that’s just not fair,” the bard breathed out, heat settling in the pit of his stomach at the way his name seemed to roll off the Witcher's tongue. The gravely sound of it pulling the bard’s mind to more illicit delights. “You can’t just say things like that. Not unless you’re willing to it back up,” Jaskier knew he was playing with fire, pushing a Witcher was never a good idea. Even on the best of days. But he was so far past the point of caring, his body balancing on a knife’s edge, and he just needed the other man to fucking <em>do</em> something.</p><p>There was another sudden flash of movement as the Witcher pushed forward, dismounting, one handed, from the mare’s back in a swift, practiced movement. He never released his iron like grip on Jaskier's wrist, pulling him closer the second his boots hit the ground. Causing the bard to brace his free hand against the firm wall of the Witcher's chest or risk losing his balance once more. A hundred and one sensations overwhelmed Jaskier's senses all at once; from the buttery smoothness of the well-worn Witcher's armour and the softness of the Witcher's snow white hair as it just brushed his fingertips, to the feeling of Geralt hot and hard as he pressed insistently against the bard’s hip slender hip.</p><p>Jaskier was hard in seconds.</p><p>“Hmm,” the Witcher hummed, his breath ghosting over the bard’s ear. “What was that about baking up my words?”</p><p>“<em>Ah</em>- fuck, Geralt,” Jaskier let out on a broken gasp, moving his chin aside in an attempt to give the other man better access to his slender neck.</p><p>“Mmm,” he heard Geralt all but purr as he made his way south, kissing his way along the bard’s neck, coming to rest against the pounding rhythm of his pulse point.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em> <em>me</em>,” Jaskier groans, tipping his head back at the sensation of the other man’s cool breath on his overheated skin.</p><p>“Well, that <em>was</em> the plan,” the Witcher growled, pulling away from the bard with one of the dirtiest looks he thinks he's ever seen, and if Jaskier hadn't already been achingly hard, that look would have done him in quicker than anything. But, before he could give the idea too much thought, Geralt was pressing forward, his cool lips crashing over his in a bruising kiss.</p><p>It took him so much by surprise that, for the first moment or two, the bard could do nothing but stand there, frozen, as the other man dominated him with him with his mouth. Once his mind finally caught up with what was happening, the Witcher already had one strong hand tangled in his dark hair, while his other was gripping his side, pulling him tighter against him.</p><p>“Mhm<em>,</em>” Jaskier moaned into the kiss, his own cock trapped between them. “Fuck, <em>Geralt…</em>”</p><p>“Hmm,” the larger man hummed against his mouth before leaving a trail of nips and kisses along Jaskier’s trembling jaw. “Seems you’ve lost all of your pretty, pretty words, little bard,” the Witcher purred low in his ear, playfully nipping at the shell.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Jaskier sighed breathlessly as, yet another, shiver raked down his spine, settling deep in his stomach, forcing a strangled gasp from his throat.</p><p>“Hmm,” Geralt continued, working his lips down the long column of Jaskier's throat, leaving more little love bites as he went. “<em>Fuck, Jaskier</em>...” He growled, mouth brushing lightly over the junction where his neck met his shoulder. No doubt, feeling his pulse flutter under his lips.</p><p>“<em>Sweet Melitele</em>,” the bard breathed, eyes fluttering closed as the Witcher breathed deeply, inhaling his sent.</p><p>“How do you still manage to smell like fucking flowers all the time?” Geralt groaned as the scent of lavender and rose water filled his senses, pulling another low groan from deep in his chest. “I mean fuck, we've been trekking through a Gods forsaken forest for the last four fucking days,” he continued, pausing to take another deep breath, “but somehow you still smell like you just walked out of some cheap whorehouse.”</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, <em>Geralt please</em>…” Jaskier moaned, hands twisting in the Witcher's long hair, pulling hard enough that it would have hurt a normal human. But all it did was illicit another obscene moan from the Witcher's throat, the intoxicating sound leaving the bard lightheaded and dizzy. His hands tugging harder at Geralt's locks as he tried desperately to stay upright.</p><p>“<em>Jaskier…</em>” the Witcher growled a warning against the bard’s flushed skin. The intensity in his eyes enough to light Jaskier's blood on fire, when Geralt brought his face back up to his.</p><p>“<em>Geralt</em>…” he began before the Witcher cut him off with another demanding kiss. It was all teeth and tongues and wandering hands. Never in his life has Jaskier felt so overpowered, so dominated. And he fucking <em>loved </em>it. It was only made more intense when the Witcher pushed forward, making Jaskier stumble a few steps back. Lest he land on his arse again. His steps halted when his back collided, rather unceremoniously, with a nearby tree. The impact forcing him to gasp into the kiss. There was a low sound of triumph from the other man as he took advantage of Jaskier's shock, pressing past the bard’s lips and into his mouth.</p><p>All of a sudden, it was like something in the Witcher snapped. Jaskier could feel him <em>everywhere</em>. From the searing heat of his tongue, pressing deeper into his mouth. Or his strong hands, as they wandered all over, grabbing and kneading him through his clothing. To the way Geralt was pinning him to the tree with his hips, leaving Jaskier no room to even shiver against him as his fingers finally settled against the top button of his silken doublet.</p><p>“Hmm,” Geralt moaned, pulling away from the kiss, allowing Jaskier a moment to breathe. “How much do you like this outfit?”</p><p>“Well, it was rather expensive and…” the bard started, before he was cut off by the sound of tearing silk. “What the fuck Geralt, did you not hear me?” Jaskier shrieked indignantly.</p><p>“Hmm,” was all the response the other man gave as his eyes roamed over all the bard’s newly revealed skin, drinking in the sight, dark eyes blazing.</p><p>“Well, now, that’s not fair,” Jaskier tisked. “First, you go and ruin one of my favourite outfits,” he continues, teasing the Witcher lightly. “Then you get to enjoy this rather spectacular view,” he paused, gesturing dramatically to himself.</p><p>“Fairs, fair, my dear Witcher,” Jaskier breathed, his usual flirtatious lilt back in his voice, toying with one of the many buckles securing the bulky Witcher armour. His fingers dancing just above the other man’s straining cock.</p><p>The Witcher bared his teeth in a growl before he was batting the bard’s hand out of the way. Skilled fingers making swift work of the silver clasps before dropping to the waistband of his leather trousers. And then, as if something occurs to him, he pauses, looking up at Jaskier, challenge lighting in his golden eyes as he raises a brow at him.</p><p>Jaskier hadn't even realized he had been holding his breath until it was all let out in a hungry groan at the playful spark in the Witcher’s eye. “<em>Fuck</em>,” he repeated once again, his overheated brain struggling for anything more artistic. “How are you even… <em>fuck</em>,” he groans, reaching forward, hands slipping under the now lose armour.</p><p>Heated hands over cool skin.</p><p>Leather parting under his reverent fingers, revelling more perfectly sculpted Witcher with every movement. “<em>Jaskier</em>…” the other breathed, impatience edging his words to almost a growl. Jaskier has to bite his lip to avoid moving too fast. If he had his way, the he would just push the Witcher to the ground, clothing be damned. But, Geralt deserved more than just a quick, rough, fuck in the woods. Even if it’s what they both wanted. There was time enough for that later.</p><p>Right now, Jaskier was going to take his time, enjoy himself a little. But first he needed a few things.</p><p>“Wait here,” he whispered, slowly removing his hands from their slow trek up the other man’s rock hard chest. Geralt let out a small sound at the loss of contact, eyes once again finding the bard’s, a look of confusion settling over his face. Well, that won’t do, Jaskier thought with an amused smirk, leaning forward, whipping his doubts away with a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, dear, I won’t be but a minute,” he assured him, when he pulled back from the kiss, disentangling himself expertly from the Witcher's strong grip.</p><p>It only took him half a dozen steps to reach his destination. Roach’s saddle bags, which conveniently were still strapped to her back. “Hey, girl,” he cooed when he reached her, running a soothing hand over her neck before getting to work. He really only needed two things, the first was large and easy to find, the other was much smaller and less so. But even then it only took a moment to locate the small vile at the bottom of his saddlebag. “Thanks, girl,” he praised, giving her one last appreciative pat before turning back around, nearly dropping the supplies he’d collected.</p><p>A few feet ahead of him, still standing by the tree, Geralt had shrugged out of his leather armour, all those rippling muscles fully on display for Jaskier to see. He had only planned on this taking a minute or so, but now he found himself hesitating. Taking his time to drink it all in. And there was a lot to see. From all of the afore mentioned muscles, to the chiselled “V” of his narrow hips, drawing the amorous bard’s eyes to the substantial bulge in the front of the Witcher's sinfully tight leather trousers.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>, Jaskier's mouth was watering. He wanted to lick every Gods damned inch of that fucking man.</p><p>“Are you just going to stand there gawking?” the Witcher growled, trying to hold back a smirk at Jaskier's attention.</p><p>“Ya, actually, I think I will,” Jaskier taunted with a look of smug satisfaction, eyes darting south again. His grin widening.  </p><p>“Hmm,” Geralt grunted in response, eyes dropping, his hands coming up to grip the front of his trousers.</p><p>Letting out a startled gasp, the bard darted forward, dropping the items he had collected, unceremoniously on the ground and grabbing the Witcher's wrists. “And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing?” he chided, looking up through his lashes.</p><p>“What you wouldn’t,” the Witcher snarled, raising a brow before ignoring the bard’s fingers on his wrists, pulling the first button of his trousers open. </p><p>“Well, then, I guess I have some making up to do,” Jaskier continued teasing, slapping the other man’s hands away from their task, replacing them with his own. “No, please, allow me, my dear Witcher,” he breathed out lightly before he dropped to the ground. His knees hitting the dirt with a jarring thud.</p><p>Jaskier let out a pained gasp at the feeling, but it faded quickly as he got an eyeful of the hard line of the Witcher’s cock, straining against the slightly parted fabric of his trousers. “<em>Fuck</em>,” he sighed, brushing the back of his fingers lightly over the soft, bulging leather.</p><p>“Quit your fucking teasing, bard,” the other man ground out through clenched teeth, one hand spearing into Jaskier's hair, pulling hard, wrenching the bard’s head back Dark eyes meeting his. “Or I swear to any God that will listen, I will get back on Roach and we will be back on the path. And we will most defiantly <em>not</em> be stopping until we reach town,” he threatened, hand tightening almost painfully in Jaskier’s hair. “Not for anything. Understand?”</p><p>The bard nodded as best he could, with the Witcher’s hand holding him firmly in place.</p><p>“Hmm,” Geralt hummed, loosening his grip on the bard’s hair, allowing him to move a little easier.</p><p>Not wanting to waste any more time, Jaskier’s talented fingers made quick work of the last two buttons, revealing a thatch of dark hair. A contented moan bubbled up in the bard’s chest at the sight. It wasn’t that he'd never seen it before, he had. It’s hard to travel with someone on and off, sharing campsites and rooms, for as many years as they had and not catch an eyeful every now and again. But never like this.</p><p>Never this close.</p><p>“You know, I always used to imagine that it would be white, like your hair,” Jaskier mused, running one finger ever so lightly along his hip bone and through the coarse hair before continuing lower in a teasing caress.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, Jaskier, can you ever just do as you’re fucking told?” the Witcher demanded, but his usual irritation was replaced with a breathless, almost neediness, that the bard had never heard him use before.</p><p>He fucking loved it.</p><p>“No, it seems that I can’t,” he replied, looking up to meet the other mans burning eyes, pupils blown so wide that there was only a thin ring of gold surrounding them. He couldn’t see his own eyes, but he knew that they must look the same.</p><p>Without breaking eye contact, Jaskier’s hand switched directions, skating back over the hard ridge with the lightest of touches.</p><p>“<em>Fuck, Jaskier,</em> I need…” Geralt started, his words cutting off on a groan as Jaskier finally reached the base of his aching cock, stopping there.</p><p>“Yes, dear Witcher?” The bard cooed, his finger drawing nondescript patterns over the gaping leather. The Witcher didn’t respond right away, just closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the rough bark of the tree. His breathing coming a little heavier.</p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” Geralt chocked out, it sounded almost like it was torn involuntarily from somewhere deep inside his chest. Like he was admitting to some fatal weakness.</p><p>“<em>Gods</em>,” Jaskier sighed as the word stole the last shred of his fractured control, his desperation suddenly crashing over him like a wave. His fingers working franticly to pull the tight leather over the other man’s narrow hips.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, how in Melitele’s name do you even get these on every morning?” the bard groaned in frustration, giving one last hard tug, finally managing to free the intimidating length of the Witcher’s cock. For a moment he couldn’t do anything but stare, swallowing hard, his mouth suddenly very dry.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” he breathed once more, all but pouncing towards the other man, warm lips wrapping tightly around his silken head.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“<em>Jaskier</em>,” the Witcher growled in surprise at the first feeling of his bard’s talented mouth on his aching cock. “<em>Fuck</em>,” he sighed, free hand joining the one already buried in the bard’s hair, tugging slightly, making the other man groan around him at the rough treatment.</p><p>It wasn’t like it was the first time the Witcher had had his dick sucked, nearly every whore he had ever met seemed to want to get her painted lips around him. Most of them would throw it in for free, a bonus for saving their village. Even Yen seemed to have an affinity for it. But there was something fundamentally different about having Jaskier on his knees in front of him, teasing just the tip of him. It was like he knew him better than he knew himself. Like he could play him just as well his fucking lute, each flick of his tongue, every gentle touch, placed perfectly to illicit the desired reaction.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>, it was heaven.</p><p>But it wasn’t nearly enough, he needed more. He wanted Jaskier all over him, sucking and licking and pulling him right to the edge until he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He wanted to see his bard before him on his hands and knees, panting and begging for him, to fill him, to ruin him. He wanted to watch as the man before him shatter into a million little pieces around him, dragging him along with him until he could barely breathe anymore.</p><p>He wanted everything.</p><p>A deep, throaty growl reverberated from his chest as he felt the hot lash of the other man’s tongue swipe along his slit, tasting the saltiness there. He felt, more than heard, Jaskier’s contented sigh as the taste washed over him, the vibrations sending an electric shiver up the Witcher's spine. His fingers pulling harder at the bard’s dark hair, hips giving an involuntary thrust, pushing a little deeper into the warm depths of the other man’s mouth.</p><p>He was about to open his mouth to apologize, but his words melted away in an instant, replaced by an incoherent moan as the bard pressed forward. His tongue dragging along the underside of his cock, placing hot open mouthed kissed down his length. The bard swallowing him down as far as he could.</p><p>“<em>Fuck… Jaskier… Fuck…</em>” he chanted breathlessly, a jolt of lighting arching his back off the tree trunk, forcing him another aching inch into the warmth of the other man’s mouth.</p><p>“Mmm,” Jaskier hummed, pulling back, his breath coming in hard pants, whispering over wet, sensitive skin. “And you said you couldn’t write a song to save your life,” he remarked teasingly, placing a feather light kiss to the very tip of the Witcher's cock. Geralt let out another strangled cry, his head falling forward, eyes meeting the other man’s through a curtain of damp white hair that had come loose from its binding. “I have to say, I quite like this tune,” the bard continued, leaning forward again, gathering the last drops of precum from his slit with a quick swipe of his tongue, never breaking from the Witcher's burning gaze. “Although, maybe we should keep this particular song just between the two of us. Hmm?” Jaskier hinted, looking up through his thick lashes, his tongue darting out to capture a stray drop of precum from his kiss swollen upper lip. And <em>fuck</em> if it wasn’t the hottest thing the Witcher had seen in his very long life. “Mmm,” he repeated distractedly before his lips wrapped around him again.</p><p>It was messy and desperate, and damn if it wasn’t the best blow job Geralt had ever been given. He wanted to close his eyes again, to lean his head back against the tree and just submit to the mastery of his bard’s mouth as it moved over him, bringing him close and close to the edge. But the other man still was still looking up at him. Dark eyes never leaving his as he moved, mouth working him wetly. A siren song pulling him to his death.</p><p>Daring him to denying his feelings any longer.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” he whispered, throwing his head back, unable to handle the heat of the other man’s gaze any longer. The expectation there. This was easier; just the feeling of soft hair between clenched fists, of long, callus fingers digging into the strong muscles of his thighs, or the rough drag of the other man’s tongue as it traced every inch of the underside of his cock. This was only this, only pleasure.</p><p>Nothing more.</p><p>“<em>Jaskier, fuck</em>,” the Witcher panted, his back arching forward again as the other man hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard. He hadn't realized how close he had been until then, but he was fairly certain that he would not be able to survive another attack like that.</p><p>“<em>Fuck, Jaskier, wait. I'm…</em>” he tried, his words cutting off in a growl as the bard pulled back slightly, teeth dragging lightly over him before pushing forward again, taking nearly all of him. That was it, he couldn’t hold back any longer. Tightening his fists even more, holding his head in place as his hips snapped forward.</p><p>He chanced a look down, meeting the bard’s searing gaze once again, the same challenge alighting there, beckoning him to his doom. Although this time he didn’t look away, he owed the bard that much.</p><p>He was so worked up, Geralt only lasted a few stuttering strokes before he felt that familiar pressure building at the base of his spine snap and he was cuming down the other man’s throat with a growl. He could still feel Jaskier's lips around him, working him through the aftershocks. Dragging out the sensation as long as he could, swallowing down everything he could. Only a thin stream escaping the corner of his mouth.</p><p><em>Fuck that was incredible</em>, he found himself thinking as he started softening on the other man’s tongue.</p><p>Belatedly he realised that his strong hands were still tangled in Jaskier's soft hair. Releasing the pressure of his fingers, he felt the bard start to pull away slowly. His lips dragging over the Witcher's oversensitive skin until he released him with a wet <em>pop</em>, placing one last kiss to the base of him before sitting back on his heels. A smug look settling over his delicate features, his own neglected cock pressing firmly against his own loose trousers, an earthy reminder that this was far from over.</p><p>“I was rather good wasn’t I?” the bard considered, his voice nothing more than a smoky rasp as his talented tongue darting out, collecting the thin stream that had dipped down her chin. Giving the breathless Witcher a slow, heated perusal from head to toe and back again, eyes meeting his half-lidded ones.</p><p>“Shit, I'm never going to hear the end of this am I?” the Witcher nearly chuckled, shaking his head minutely.</p><p>“No, you defiantly are not,” the other man preened slightly beneath his gaze.</p><p>“Slip of the tongue,” he assured the bard, a small smirk ghosting over his lips.</p><p>“I’ll have you know, that was by far my finest work,” Jaskier replied indignantly, rising to his feet, pressing an accusatory finger into the center of the Witcher's chest. “And you should count yourself lucky.”</p><p>Geralt didn’t answer.</p><p>Instead he grabbed the other man but the back of his head, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. It was supposed to be quick, just meant to shut him up, but the Witcher found himself lingering. Enjoying the taste of himself on the bard’s tongue.</p><p><em>His </em>bard’s tongue.</p><p>“Hmm,” he hummed as he pulled away from the kiss, both their breathing coming a bit harsher. “Now, what was that about you promising a ride?” he challenged, raising a brow, Daring the other man to go back on his own words.</p><p>“<em>Fuck, Geralt</em>,” Jaskier rasped, barely audible for the roughness in his throat. He seemed to consider the Witcher for a moment, his eyes searching Geralt's face. He must have found what he was looking for because not a moment later he nodded, biting his lip.</p><p>“Bedroll, now,” was all he said before shrugging the tattered remains of his doublet from his narrow shoulders, his deft fingers dropping to the waistband of his own, now dirt stained, trousers.</p><p>For a moment Geralt just stood there, unable to do anything more than stare as the other man stripped down right in front of him. It wasn’t anything the Witcher hadn't seen before, he'd seen the bard in multiple states of undress before, as well as many compromising positions over their years traveling together. But there was something different about this, this time it wasn’t for someone else, this was for him. All for him.  </p><p>As if he could feel Geralt watching him Jaskier looked up from his task, shooting him a challenging glare, brow rising accusingly at him. He tore his eyes away with a frustrated growl, his gaze falling to the bed roll that had been unceremoniously dumped on the ground. Or, more rather, the small bottle that was lying on its side in the damp grass right next to it.</p><p>Another sound forced its way through the Witcher's clench teeth, his cock starting to take interest again as his mind filled with all manner of debauchery. Images of oil slicked fingers, working their way deep inside or the bard’s skin, glistening enticingly as he lined himself up perfectly behind the other man.</p><p>He was fully hard by now and he had to grit his teeth to hold back another embarrassingly needy moan as he knelt beside the abandoned bedroll. With a deft flick of his finger the Witcher popped the clasp, freeing the tightly rolled fabric, spreading it out on the damp grass.</p><p>With that done, the Witcher turned back towards the bard, still kneeling in the soft patch of greenery. He could feel a slight hitch in his breathing as his eyes locked onto Jaskier, now fully naked, cloths thrown haphazardly behind him. And he was stroking one of his callused hands lightly up and down his hard length.</p><p><em>Fuck</em>, was all he could think as he drank in the sight of him, teasing himself toward the edge as he watched Geralt do all the work. A wicked look glittering in the bard’s dark eyes as he caught a glimpse of the Witcher's own cock, back up and more than ready for him.</p><p>“Lie down, on your back” Jaskier whispered, the rhythm of his fingers never faltering, “and let me take care of you. For once.”</p><p>Never breaking their heated eye contact, Geralt laid himself down on their soft little bed of fabric and grass, waiting.</p><p>“<em>Gods</em>, you should see yourself right now,” the bard breathed, biting his lower lip. The Witcher watching as he gave himself one last firm stroke before pulling his hand away from his obviously aching cock, coming towards him. Each step slow, meant to torture. To tease. Until finally, finally, he stood above him, breathing hard. He only stood there for a moment, cock bobbing slightly between them, before he dropped to the bedroll, his knees bracketing Geralt's narrow hips, perching himself lightly on the Witcher's powerful thighs.</p><p>“Last chance Geralt, yes,” he teased, both of his hands dragging up his abdomen, calloused fingertips rough on the smooth skin of long ago healed scars. “Or no?” he finished, leaning forward to whisper the words in the Witcher's ear, a shudder working through him, from head to toe.</p><p>He didn’t answer, instead he merely grabbed the bard once again, pulling him into a heated kiss.</p><p>“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jaskier laughed, pulling away from the Witcher's lips. “But don’t think that you can keep doing that to distract me. I need an answer dear Witcher,” he informed lightly, trailing a series of open mouthed kisses along the sharp line of the Witcher's jaw. “So, what’s it gonna be?” he repeated, drawing his earlobe into his mouth, his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin there.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Geralt breathed out, his back arching off the bedroll, bringing himself flush against the man above him. A low moan escaped him at the feeling of heated skin against his.</p><p>“Hmm, still not an answer, love,” Jaskier taunted, pulling back again, eyes shining with mischief.</p><p><em>Gods, he looked amazing</em>. All dishevelled and glowing, beaming down at him.</p><p>He knew the answer immediately. That in that moment the bard could ask him for anything, and he would do it. <em>Fuck</em>, he'd do almost anything to keep seeing that look on Jaskier's face.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” Geralt ground out through gritted teeth.</p><p>“Excellent,” the bard whispered with a wicked smirk, leaning down, drawing the cool skin of the Witcher's pectoral into his mouth. “Because I don’t know what I would have done if you'd said no,” he added before nipping at the newly formed bruise.</p><p>“Stop. Fucking. Teasing,” Geralt hissed, jaw still clenched, as the action sent another shudder through his massive frame, settling at the base of his spine. Looking down, he tried to send the infuriating bard a withering glare, a warning. But it fell short when he saw those dark eye locked on his, still sparking with mischief, as he wrapped his lips around the Witcher's aching nipple, pulling a nearly silent ‘<em>fuck</em>’ from the Witcher's lips.</p><p>“Hmm,” the bard hums against his skin, sending another shiver through him, before pulling off with a wet pop. He didn’t go far this time, just reached behind himself, searching blindly for something the Witcher already knew he wouldn’t find.</p><p>“Looking for this?” Geralt growled with his own dark smirk, satisfaction firing through him at the shocked look that the other man’s face when he saw the bottle in the Witcher's hand.</p><p>Even Witcher's needed a little fun, now and again.</p><p>“Now who’s teasing who?” Jaskier asked, arching a brow.</p><p>“Hmm,” was the only response he gave before sitting up, bringing every inch of himself flush against his bard. “<em>Fuck</em>,” they both sighed, the new position pressing both of their cocks together, crushed between the two of them. All the Witcher's thoughts traveling south, finding it hard to focus on anything, other than the feeling of the other man’s cock against his.</p><p>“Now what big man?” Jaskier asked, voice low and horse, eyes half lidded as he shifted over him. Grinding down hard.</p><p>Another low growl rumbled though the Witcher's chest at the sensation, snapping his focus back to the more important matters. He raised the small bottle to his lips, pulling the cork free with his sharp teeth, the scent of lavender and rose overwhelming his senses. It reminded him of the cloying, sweet, smells that hang in the air at every brothel from Kaedwen to Nilfgard. But mostly it just smelled like Jaskier, the overpowering floral scent that always clung to his skin.</p><p>His eyes snapping to the other man’s, shooting him a dark look.</p><p>“Well you <em>were</em> admiring my perfume earlier,” the bard pointed out, hips still rolling lazily against him, sending another bolt of pleasure through him every time the movement pressed their cocks together. “I thought it would be poetic.”</p><p>The Witcher almost laughed at that, but it turned into a moan, when the other man gave a particularly slow grind against him. There was not nearly enough friction, he needed more. He needed to be inside him.</p><p>Now.</p><p>Tipping the bottle of scented oils into his other hand, Geralt coated his fingers in the glistening liquid, humming as the scent intensified, nearly making his head spin. Gently he placed the open bottle on the grass beside them before reaching around the bard’s narrow waist, grabbing a hand full of his firm arse and pulling him off his lap. Both of Jaskier's hands gripping Geralt's shoulders for balance as he hovered over the Witcher. He could feel the sting of the bard’s fingernails biting into the thick muscles as his other hand also came around to his backside, slick fingers sliding over heated skin. He couldn’t help teasing his bard a little, revelling in every chocked off whimper, before finally coming to rest right against his entrance.</p><p>“And you are nothing if not poetic,” the Witcher whispered wickedly, at the same time that he pressed two fingers past the tight ring of the other man’s muscle.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“<em>Geralt!</em>” Jaskier nearly screamed in surprise, his muscles locking hard around the Witcher's thick fingers. “<em>Fuck.</em>”</p><p>“Hmm,” Geralt hummed, dropping his forehead to the bard’s slender shoulder.</p><p><em>Gods, was this really happening?</em> Or was this just an incredibly vivid dream? It’s not like it would be the first time. The bard had nothing if not an active imagination. It kind of came with the job, very often he would need to create reality with not but a few words as inspiration. And sometimes his imagination can get away from him a little. Especially where a certain white haired Witcher was concerned.</p><p>On many a lonely night, Jaskier found himself looking across their dying fire, imagining what it would be like if Geralt would just look up from sharpening his silver sword, see the naked desire dancing in his eyes. How it would feel if he ever plucked up enough courage to just lean forward, kiss him one day as his long fingers worked knots out of his silver-white hair. What it would take for the White Wolf to pin him to some lumpy mattress in some shitty inn, or to feel sun-warmed grass against his skin as he took him in some majestic clearing one day. What it would feel like to have those large hands on his hips, leaving bruises behind, letting him know he was his.</p><p>A startled gasp tore from the bard’s chest, pulling his focus back to the man in front of him. <em>Fuck, </em>if this was a dream, Jaskier never wanted to wake up. The way that his callus fingertips felt as they brushed against his inner walls, trying to help relax his muscles, was more than even his vast imagination cold have conjured up on its own.</p><p>“<em>Oh Gods</em>…” Jaskier panted as the Witcher’s thumb started stroking lightly against his entrance. He couldn’t help rocking back against Geralt's fingers, the tension easing slightly. He felt the Witcher smirk against his shoulder right before he sank his teeth into the soft flesh, biting hard enough to leave a mark. One the bard knew he'd feel for the next few days.</p><p>“<em>Fuck, please, oh Gods, don’t stop that. Please, fuck, Gods, please</em>,” the bard begged, his voice little more than a desperate whisper as his hips started moving, pressing down on the Witcher's fingers, forcing them further inside of him. “<em>Please, Gods, I need you to, fuck, move. Please, Gods, now. Move</em>.” At that the Witcher bit down harder, nearly breaking the skin. <em>Fuck</em>, it was better than he'd ever imagined, and there was no way he could have stopped the needy moan that escaped him. Even if he'd wanted to.</p><p>For a few moments nothing happened, Geralt just stayed where he was, teeth pressing hard into his smooth skin, slick fingers buried so deep inside of him, his thumb still teasing his loosening muscles.</p><p>“<em>Geralt</em>,” the bard whispered on an exhale, warm breath caressing the sensitive skin of the Witcher's ear.  </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” the Witcher growled, his fingers flexing suddenly, forcibly stretching his inner muscles. It pulled another shocked cry from the bard’s lips. He felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out as the Witcher moved inside of him, manipulating him like he was little more than clay in his hands.</p><p>“<em>Oh, my</em>...” Jaskier trailed off on a gasp when a third finger was added without warning. “<em>Gods, fuck, Geralt, please, I need you. Please, now</em>,” the bard pleaded, not even knowing what he was saying anymore, far too on edge to care. “<em>Please, Gods, I’m ready. Fuck, please</em>.”</p><p>“Hmm,” the Witcher grunted, kissing the mark he had left on the bard’s shoulder, before looking up, his free hand shifting to Jaskier's hips, halting his movements.</p><p>But, the bard would not be so easily tamed. With a wicked grin, Jaskier pushed forward, settling himself more firmly on Geralt's lap, pressing both of their aching cocks against each other again.</p><p>“Are you sure?” the Witcher asked, his eyes loosing focus for a moment before refocusing on the bard’s face, more serious this time.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” the bard answered without hesitation, biting his lip to hold back a desperate moan as a shiver made its way up his spine. “<em>Gods, yes</em>,” he whispered, leaning forward and capturing the Witcher's mouth with his.</p><p>The kiss was gentle and deep and filled with all the words that the bard couldn’t say out loud. It was meant to be quick, just enough to distract the Witcher, but once their mouths met, Jaskier never wanted to stop. Somehow it had never occurred to him that the Witcher would be such a good kisser; but fuck the man knew what to do with his mouth. <em>Fuck</em>, if he wasn’t careful he could drown in this kiss, forgetting everything else except the feeling of Geralt's lips on his. But there were more pressing matters, and a promise to be fulfilled.</p><p>“Now dear, just lie back,” Jaskier whispered, breathing hard as he broke the kiss, pushing gently at the Witcher's wide shoulders. There was only the faintest resistance against his palms before Geralt gave in, allowing the bard to guide him back onto the bedroll. The new position making the Witcher's fingers slip out of him, leaving him feeling needy and empty. A child who’s new favourite toy has just been taken away from him.</p><p>Shifting forward slightly he could feel the tip of the Witcher's cock brush against his entrance. He nearly whimpered at the sensation, scrambling for the half empty bottle of oil and spilling it all over his hand with his blind groping. Oh well, it will have to do. Besides, it’s not like he was about to get up and find another one.</p><p>Before he could think better of it the bard brought his hand up, his mischievous grin sliding back into place as he locked eyes with the Witcher. He placed one oil-slick finger in the center of the larger man’s chest, dragging it through the dark hair there, down the muscles of his abdomen. Paying special attention to the patchwork of old scars on his way down. Relishing the way he was able to stay absolutely still, but for the slight tremors in his muscles as Jaskier teased along his skin.</p><p>He made two more return trips, eyes locking on the glistening trail that he had made against the Witcher's chiselled abdamon. On the last pass, the bard leaned forward, taking one of Geralt's nipples into his mouth. At the same time, wrapping his skilled fingers around the Witcher's once again fully hard cock.</p><p>“<em>Fuck, Jas…</em>” Geralt nearly screamed, his hips arching forward into the bard’s loose fist. “<em>Quit </em>fucking<em> teasing</em>,” he ground out, hips continuing to press upward, seeking something more than he was getting from the lax grip.</p><p>“And why would I do that?” Jaskier asked, nipping lightly before pulling back from the Witcher's sensitive flesh. Something about the way he said his name, shortening it so it was just the first sylible, sent a shiver through him. <em>Jas</em>. The Witcher wasn’t much for pet names, but the fact that he already had one for him, made him all hot and tingly on the inside. He wanted to hear him say it every day, for it to be the only way his Witcher ever addressed him.</p><p>“Say it again. Please Geralt I love how you say my name,” the bard begged, tightening his fist slightly as he lined up the Witcher's aching cock up with his entrance. </p><p>“<em>Jas</em>,” Geralt breathed out, at the same time that Jaskier sank down, a reedy cry tearing from his chest as he took everything the Witcher had to offer.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Jaskier breathed, a twinge of pain flaring through his backside, it may have been a bit presumptuous to assume he could take all of him on the first pass. It had been a long time since he had done this, and never with anyone as well... endowed as Geralt. But the Witcher had prepped him well, so it didn’t take long for his body to adjust.</p><p>“You ok?” he heard the Witcher ask, the note of concern in his voice was so touching and unexpected, Jaskier almost laughed. <em>Was he ok?</em> Gods, he was more than ok, he was perfect. This was perfect.</p><p>He hadn’t realized he had closed his eye until he felt Geralt's grip tighten, almost imperceptibly, against his hip. And Jaskier realized that his Witcher was still uncertain, something the bard could not recall him ever being.</p><p>“Yes dear, I'm more than ok,” he answered with a dazed half smile, his eyes meeting Geralt's anxious gaze. At his words, the Witcher raised a skeptical brow, not quite believing him. Rolling his eyes, Jaskier swooped down, trying to kiss the ever-present frown from the Witcher's lips. “It’s just been a while and you’re, well... You!” he joked breathlessly as he pulled away from the kiss, still smiling.</p><p>“Hmm,” the Witcher hummed beneath him, his fingers dancing lightly against his skin. “And what exactly am I?”</p><p>“Well you’re not exactly average now are you?” he huffed back, noting how the Witcher's fingers had started migrating a little farther south, now brushing absentmindedly along the bard’s outer thigh. Clearly heading for a particular destination.</p><p>The thought alone was enough to pull Jaskier's mind back to more pressing concerns, namely the delicious burn in his backside as he stretched around the thickness of Geralt's cock. As well as the pressing ache of his own neglected appendage. All of a sudden, it wasn’t enough. He needed to move. To feel the Witcher's strong, calloused hands around him.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Jaskier moaned as an involuntary shudder caused his muscles to tense, a strangled groan forcing it’s way past the hard line of the Witcher's lips. <em>Gods, that's good, </em>he thought, pulling back until only the tip remained inside of him. Sinking back down again agonizingly slowly.</p><p>“Was I not clear earlier? Quit. Fucking. Teasing,” Geralt growled, eyes burning and teeth bared.</p><p>“Yes, dear,” the bard replied with a wicked grin, doing it once more before slamming back down again. But, this time, instead of waiting, he rocked forward, riding all of him with slow, languid movements.</p><p><em>Gods</em>, he was so full, he couldn’t ever remember feeling this full before. It was amazing. He felt like he could feel every inch of his Witcher's rather impressive cock as it moved inside of him.</p><p>This was something Jaskier had fantasized about for more than a decade. He'd imagined where it would be, what it would feel like. What Geralt would look like, spread under him and completely at his mercy. Every detail had been so clear, so exact. Based on years of watching him fight, watching how his body moved, of helping him bathe, examining every muscle, every scar. Some of it was even fact. Yennifer, the bitch, knew how the bard felt and seemed to love nothing more than to watch Jaskier squirm and blush as she recanted their exploits, in excruciating detail. Actually giggling when he tried, and failed, to hide his ever growing erection from the evil sorceress.</p><p>All of this had come together in his mind, creating a rather vivid image of what this experience would be like. But, he had been never been so wrong. Not even his wildest imaginings could have prepared him for what the Witcher would actually look like under him, affixed by the weight of his body.</p><p>There was something intoxicating about having a Witcher, <em>his </em>Witcher, at his mercy. To feel the tension in all of those battle-hardened muscles as he trusted the bard have complete control, a privilege awarded to so few in the Witcher's life.</p><p>And knowing that it was all an illusion, that if, and when, that tension breaks, he will be lucky if he's able to simply hold on for dear life. It was enough to make Jaskier forget his teasing pace and snap his narrow hips suddenly, grinding down hard at the same time.</p><p>“<em>Oh Go...</em>” the bard sang, a desperate moan cutting into his words as he felt the tip of the Witcher's cock brush against the sensitive spot deep within him. The sudden rush of sensation was like being hit by a bolt of lightning, leaving his every nerve ending sizzling in the aftermath.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Geralt hissed, throwing his head back and slamming his eyes shut. His back arching off the bedroll as his position would allow, without throwing Jaskier off.</p><p>The bard let out a frustrated whimper, his cock throbbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. He was half-tempted to simply forget this teasing and take himself in hand, as he quickened his torturously slow pace. Giving them both what they so desperately wanted, but before he could do anything, one of the Witcher's hands released its busing grip, brushing against the burning heat of the bard’s needy cock.</p><p>“<em>Jas</em>,” he breathed, his head still thrown back as his fingers trailed lightly along the overly sensitive skin of the bard’s aching cock.</p><p>The sound of his name on the Witcher's lips, was enough to shatter the last shred of self control that Jaskier owned. But then he added an almost inaudible “<em>please</em>” and there was no way he could deny either of them any longer.</p><p>Without warning, his hips snapped forward once more, hands flying to the wide expanse of the Witcher's chest, tangling in the dark hairs there. The new angle allowed the bard more leverage, of which he took full advantage of, grinding down hard and clenching his muscles, feeling every exquisite inch of that massive cock inside of him.</p><p>“<em>Oh my... Geralt!</em>” Jaskier cried, his voice nearly breaking on the last syllable, as the hand around his cock shifted, speeding up its now rough strokes, matching Jaskier's brutal pace. There was no way that the bard was going to last like this. But there was also no way he was going to finish so embarrassingly quickly in front of (or rather on top of) Geralt.</p><p>Nope no way!</p><p>Throwing his own head back, Jaskier thought of anything and everything that he could use to stave off his impending release. Unfortunately, those where few and far between, for the amorous bard and it proved far more difficult to come up with than he thought. Especially when all he could focus, was the Witcher and all the little noises coming e never thought he'd make for him. He had never imagined that Geralt would be one to be so vocal in bed. As a matter of fact, he was usually the one making all the noise between the sheets. He couldn’t deny, however, that he was enjoying the unexpected role reversal, reveling in every shuddered breath and whispered <em>“fuck” </em>that fell from the Witcher's lips. Drinking them up like they were the water and he was parched.</p><p>The bard was still trying to fight his instincts, determined to last just a little longer, when his mind went suddenly blank, a flash of white-hot pleasure ripping through him like wild fire as his orgasm washed over him. He had to shut his eyes when the intensity became too much for him, his inner muscles locking up tight at the shock of it. Only able to remain upright due to his shaking hands where they braised against the Witcher's chest, as well as the firm grip of the Witcher's free hand, still digging into his hip. The feeling of Geralt's strong fingers never ceased, as he worked Jaskier through it, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he could.</p><p><em>Oh gods!</em> Had he really just done that? He'd barely lasted longer than he had his first time. <em>Fuck</em>, there goes his reputation. All those years he'd spent bragging about his conquests, his skills, his fucking stamina. All for naught since he couldn’t even last more than five bloody minutes on the Witcher's massive cock.</p><p>He was just about to open his mouth, no bloody idea how he was going to explain that he just got over excited, that this had been something he'd been dreaming about for the better part of a decade.</p><p>He had no idea what to say, but, apparently it didn’t matter because not a moment later he felt the Witcher tense. Arching once more off the ground as he came, painting the bard’s insides with his release.</p><p>It seemed to take ages before Geralt settled once more. Lying back on the bedroll, breathing slightly elevated, a glistening sheen of sweat covering his chest and forehead, making some of his fine white hairs stick to his skin. On instinct, the bard raised one shaky hand to the Witcher's face, brushing it out of his eyes, mesmerised by how human he looked just then.</p><p>At his touch, however, the Witcher's eyes snapped open, molten and intense, as he looked right into Jaskier's own. Something akin to weariness, or maybe confusion, alighting in his golden depths.</p><p>“That was...” he stared in a low voice, eyes flicking down, away from Jaskier's, focusing instead, it seemed, on where they were still joined.</p><p>“Quick,” the bard offered, attempting to make his voice light, to not make too big of a deal out of it. But even he knew it fell flat. At the tone in his voice, the Witcher's eyes found Jaskier's again, an emotion that the bard could not name, or just didn’t want to, danced just beneath the surface. “Look, I'm sorry, it’s just that...” he started with a resigned sigh, still not sure what to say.</p><p>“For what?” Geralt asked, cutting him off, eyebrow quirking. “You know you could teach most whores a thing or two.”</p><p>“Wait, so you mean it was good for you? Even though I couldn’t even last more than a nervous virgin?” Jaskier breathed, unable to hide the astonishment in his voice.</p><p>“Fuck you’re so dramatic,” was the only response the Witcher gave, a small smile edging over his lips, as he lifted the bard off of his now softened cock. “Now get up and find my horse.”</p><p>“Why do I have to find her? She’s your bloody horse, plus I don’t even know if I can walk properly right now,” Jaskier pouted, sitting back on the balls of his feet, the position making his thighs burn from overuse. Although, he didn’t miss the way Geralt's eyes looked him up and down. “I mean I did just have <em>someone’s</em> rather sizable cock up my ass, not two minutes ago,” he added, his own mouth breaking into a teasing grin.</p><p>“Yes, well, this whole mess <em>is </em>your fault after all. So you’d better do something about that, because once you find her we are starting off again. I will not listen to you complain that your ass is too sore to sleep on the ground,” the Witcher countered, his raised brow daring him to say anything more on the subject. Leaned up onto one of his elbows and reaching for the speechless bard’s colourful trousers, throwing them at him. “Now get dressed and find my horse.”</p><p>With a frustrated noise, Jaskier stood up and did as he was told, wincing only once when he bent down too fast to retrieve his shirt. All the while glaring daggers at the lounging Witcher, who didn’t seem to notice.</p><p>Or care for that matter.</p><p>“Was I better than Yen?” he asked nervously after a few moments of tense silence, his hands pausing in the act of doing up the last button on his trousers.</p><p>“Yennifer and I had sex on a unicorn, Jas. A unicorn, mind you, that we ended up breaking,” Geralt answered throwing him a deadpan look.</p><p>“That's not a no,” the bard retorted, bending down to retrieve the tattered remains of his doublet from the ground beside the Witcher's hip. “Just saying,” he added before straightening up again.</p><p>“Go find my damned horse,” the Witcher growled, trying to hide his smile as he threw a boot at the infuriating bard, causing him to dart out of the way.</p><p>“That's still not a no,” he repeated, dancing out of the way of the next boot as it was lodged blindly in his direction.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Once he was sure that the bard had disappeared into the thick growth of trees, unable to see or hear the him any longer. Once he was certain he was safely alone, did the Witcher allow himself a smile. Satisfaction making him soft.</p><p>Was he better than Yennifer?</p><p><em>Fuck yes. </em>He was better than everyone.</p><p>But there was no fucking way he was ever going to his bard that. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So... that was fun.</p><p>Hope you liked it :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>